


Hold Him Down

by NerdyAdjacent



Series: Dark Days [3]
Category: WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Community: wrestlingkink, Dark, Evil Kevin owens, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Consensual, Rape, Retribution, Revenge, Sadism, Torture, VERY NON CON, Violence, evil Seth Rollins, i didn't even know I could be this dark, mild AU, self destructive behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-05-26 14:47:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 15,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6243880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyAdjacent/pseuds/NerdyAdjacent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Kevin holding Dean down for Seth </p><p>"You know, Dean,” Seth began, coldly. “I've taken so much away from you, it's almost lost all its fun. There is one thing I still haven't had of yours. I'd like to take that now.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fight

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, like, I am a bit shocked at myself for taking on this prompt. It's very, VERY, out of my comfort zone. 
> 
> Please, please, PLEASE read the tags. This will definitely not be up everyone's alley.
> 
> Full prompt:  
> WWE: Seth Rollins/Dean Ambrose/Kevin Owens - Kevin Holding Dean down  
> After that main event and all that Kevin holding Dean down/in place for Seth going on i really need the exact same thing but like sexually.  
> Just Kevin holding Dean down or in place while he and Seth use him.  
> Fine with it being non/dub con or full consensual, but if it is please let it be really fucked up and unhealthy (basically my fave aspect of Seth/Dean).

The trash can got the brunt of his aggression as he kicked it clear across the hallway. Dean didn't like to lose. He especially didn't like to lose to Seth Rollins. Even the satisfying crash of rubber on linoleum did nothing to quell the growing heat now flushing his face.

“Fucking Rollins!” He grunted and began the process of pulling the tape from his hands. The quicker he could get out of this stadium and to a bottle of whiskey the better. He'd rather drink away the last hour than dwell on it any longer. The son of a bitch cheated, and not in the way Dean would appreciate. He wasn't a stranger to cheating, in fact he loved the practice, it was when someone did such a low down dirty thing to him...that's where he drew the line. Bringing Owens into it was just the icing on the cake.

He was so preoccupied in his own animosity towards Seth, he wasn't able to react when a large hand grabbed him and yanked him into a locker room, sending him off balance to the floor on his hands and knees to brace himself before he face planted. “What the -”

A large hand clamped over his mouth and forced him up to his knees, forced his eyes to look up at the grin, the smugness, the pompous, self-centered face of the man he hated. He growled behind the palm that smelled of sweat and tape.

“Hey there, Dean.”

A quick bite to the fingers around his mouth and his assailant yelped in pain and pulled back. Kevin Owens.

He was on his feet immediately, senses heightened, fists balled at his sides as the two men began circling him. “Haven't you had enough?” He growled, looking from on man to the other, anticipating something, anything. The look in both their eyes was dangerous, threatening, unstable...ironic.

“You know, Dean,” Seth began, coldly. “I've taken so much away from you, it's almost lost all its fun. There is one thing I still haven't had of yours. I'd like to take that now.”

Dean sniffed, that ever present defiance playing in his voice when he spoke. “if you're gonna kick my ass, just do it. I can take at least one of you down with me.”

Both men laughed, an unsettling sound. He knew he needed to get out of there...now. Kevin had moved between him and the door, but Dean was fast. He could outrun Kevin. As long as he stayed out of the lumbering hulks grasp, he could get away. Seth was another story. He couldn't outrun the younger man, but he could beat him. It was a six of one/half dozen of the other situation. With a grin, he made his choice and a break for the door, narrowly missing Kevin as he reached for him.

Locked.

The realization that he was now fucked hit him harder than the punch to the back of the head that sent him face first into the door and to the floor, dazed. He vaguely heard Seth tell Kevin to “Hold him still.”

Large hands grabbed him again and slammed him face first into the wall, forearm to the back of the neck held him there. Try as he might, struggle as much as he could, he wasn't budging. Owens had a grip on him like iron. This was bad. This was very bad.

“I'd say don't struggle, but I like it when you fight me.” Seth purred in his ear before licking the side of his face. “This is going to hurt you much more than it's going to hurt me.”

“Fuck you, Rollins!” Dean yelled. He was met with nothing but sickening laughter from both men and a knuckle to the ribs from Kevin that forced a yelp.

“I'm going to take you first.” Seth whispered. “It won't be quick, and you sure as shit won't enjoy it. Then, when you're barely conscious, Owens will take whatever you have left.”

Dean snarled and tried to push away, “Why? Why are you doing this you mother fucker!”

He felt Seth grin against the side of his face and his hand snake around and grab Dean's crotch, squeezing hard enough to elicit whimpers of pain from his former brother. Owens held him still while Seth unbuckled his jeans and shimmied them and his boxers down to the middle of his thigh. There was a shift in movement as Seth moved behind him and undid his own gear.

There was a pause as again Seth leaned in close to his ear. “I'm doing this Because I'm better than you. Keep him still Kevin...this is gonna hurt.”

 

 


	2. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to do this right away. Then it was suggested I expand and it was stuck in my head. So, yeah...

He didn't know how long they had him at their mercy, each switching off over and over again until his body just couldn't handle the pain anymore. And that took a long time because he could definitely handle pain. He always could. So, for them to push him to that threshold was terrifying in and of itself. It could have been hours for all he knew before he finally passed out.

He came to to the feeling of being moved, dragged by the arms along a grimy floor like a ragdoll and deposited face down on cool white tiles. Then water, cold as ice, hit his back. If he wasn't in so much pain, or so numb to what had just happened to him, he might have even reacted. As it were, he laid there, fully clothed, as icy jets of water washed over him. At least they had the decency to pull his pants back up.

Black shoes came into view, Seth's gold and leather boots. He couldn't focus on them, couldn't even lift his head. If they wanted to, they could do anything to him right now and he'd be powerless to fight it. At this point, he wished they would just get it over with and put him out of his misery. He could barely even flinch when Seth took a handful of his now drenched hair and lifted his head so his unfocused eyes could look at him.

“I want you to remember this.” He said, speaking like it was Dean's fault they had done this. “You remember what happens when someone like you thinks they're better than someone like me.”

Fuck you! He thought. He would have said it if he had the energy to speak. Even glaring at Seth took everything he had left, a last shred of defiance that caused the younger man to smirk. He let go of his hair and Dean’s head fell like a stone with a thud that echoed wet against the hard floor.

“You should be thankful.” He sneered. “Next time we might not be as gentle.”

Next time.

The phrase echoed in his head.

Next time. Next time. Next time.

Would they dare do this again? Would they hold him down and have their way with him again until he was reduced to nothing but a mess of blood and pain like he was now? The thought sent his body into shivers of fear and he somehow managed to curl up into a ball on the wet tile floor ignoring the laughter cracking through the shower.

One of them kicked him in the ribs and he grunted out of pain. It was Kevin who spoke next, the first time since this whole thing began. “Now clean yourself up...whore.”

And they were gone. They left him lying there, curled into himself like a child as cold water pelted his body and soaked his clothes and hair.

What did he do now?

Nothing.

He was going to stay right here and pray for darkness to take him over again.

\---

“Has anyone seen Dean?” Roman asked what felt like the 100th person in as many minutes. He was supposed to meet his friend for drinks after the match. He knew Dean was upset - more like pissed off - he lost to Seth that night, but it was unlike him to tear off on his own.

Maybe he had. Maybe this was just one of those instances where Dean needed to be alone. It wasn't unusual for him to retreat to the lockers and wallow in frustration. He'd try there next.

He could hear the shower running when he pushed the door open. “Hey, Dean? You in here?”

There was no answer.

He could have shrugged it off, could have kept going, but something stopped him. Maybe it was the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, the fact that Dean's hand wrappings were strewn on the floor, or the smell of sweat and blood that pushed him into the locker room further. He didn't know.

But something was wrong.

He walked toward the showers, halting his steps slightly as if something were going to jump out at him any moment. And maybe it would. But something kept him walking toward the sound of running water.

“Dean?”

A groan. He heard it. It was barely audible over the sound of the shower, but it was definitely there. His pace sped up. “Dean? That you?”

He froze in horror when he turned into the shower stalls. Lying motionless on the floor, still clad in his ring gear, was Dean Ambrose. He was bloody, bruised, and whimpering ever so slightly as water sprayed over him, running pink down the drain.

“Jesus Christ!” He yelled in shock and ran to his friends side. Dean flinched away when Roman tried to touch his shoulder, curling himself into a tighter ball, eyes squeezed shut. “Dean? Dean, look at me.”

Deans eyes opened briefly, but were hazy and unfocused. He made no further movements, no further sounds. His eyes simply slid closed.

“Fuck!” Roman had his phone out in a flash and quickly dialed 911. “I need an ambulance!"

 

 


	3. Aggression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, remember those tags.

He wasn't supposed to cry, right? That's not what men did. They held it in, put on a brave face for everyone else's benefit while inside they're screaming, huddled in the dark recesses of their own minds to hide the scared little boy sobbing there. That's what men did…

That's what Dean did.

They asked him the same question over and over. “Who did this?”

But all he could do was stare, stare at the white walls of the hospital room he found himself in, asking himself only one question, the only question that mattered. “Why?”

Rollins said it was because he didn't want Dean to think he was better than him. In Rollins case, maybe that was his real motivation. But what about Owens? What drove him to slam himself into Dean over and over, groaning and moaning while Dean struggled to regain some semblance of control over the excruciating agony ripping through his entire body.

He could still feel it, every moment of it, tearing him apart over and over in his mind. When they got tired of fucking him against the wall, they dragged him to the bench to bend him over that and continue. When he finally, blissfully, passed out, he was on the floor with Kevin's entire weight on him while Rollins…

The tear trailed down his cheek before he could stop it. One. Single. Tear. That's all they would get. They didn't deserve his self pity. They deserved nothing but the fiery retribution he would lay down on them. Because Dean Ambrose wouldn't let them get away with this. They would suffer like he had. When he was done, they would be unrecognizable, just like him.

“Dean?”

The voice was wary, just above a whisper, testing whether or not the company would be accepted by the broken man that laid on his side in the white hospital bed. He didn't answer, maybe he couldn't answer. He simply continued to stare straight ahead as if the small spot on the nurse's whiteboard that wasn't quite erased was the most interesting thing in the world.

But he knew Roman would persist, going so far as to pull the guest chair to sit directly in Dean’s line of sight. “Dean, look at me.”

His eyes slid away from the whiteboard to stare blankly at Romans stormy, distressed face. In that one moment, he wanted to tell Roman everything, every sickening detail so at least someone else would know, someone else would bear the weight of this terrible thing with him. But he didn't. He couldn't. He didn't know why.

“The doctors said you were raped.”

Raped? Raped. That's what they had done. They had raped him over and over; took everything he had without his consent.

“Is that true?”

Again he remained silent, swallowing hard against the growing lump in his throat, willing it back down into his chest where it would fester into the fuel that drove his revenge.

“Who did it, Dean?”

No answer. If he didn't say their names, their power would be gone. So he didn't say them.

“Let me help you, Dean. Please.”

Help him? Was there any help for him other than the satisfying crunch of Seth's neck giving way in his hands? Or the joy he'd feel castrating them both before shoving their own dicks down their throats. No. Roman couldn't help him. Not unless he was willing to help him destroy his enemies.

“Please, say something.”

Roman was pleading with him now. He knew what he wanted, knew what was expected. But, no. Not that. The only thing he would say to Roman was the only thing that mattered right now. “Thank you.”

 

 


	4. Brutality

Sleep had eluded him as of late. Even now, sprawled out on his hotel room bed, All Seth could think about was that day; how it felt to be inside Ambrose in such a way, feeling him squirm and fight and curse and, finally, give up...no greater aphrodisiac. He was getting stiff just thinking about it. Then there was the fact that no one had said anything about it, as if he had gotten away with it. That sent a surge of power through him and he shuddered against it. Ambrose hadn't told anyone.

He'd heard through the locker room that Dean was in the hospital, some of the other superstars had already gone to see him, though all they had said was he was attacked. Roman hadn't been at any workouts that week so far and he knew that's because he was playing bodyguard for his precious friend.

What a load of shit.

He wondered if Dean would put up the same fight again, now that he'd had a taste of what Seth could do to him. The thought of those blue eyes wide with fear was enough to send a jolt to his groin, eliciting a moan. He had to give it to the man, he definitely could take pain. Beautiful, delicious, pain.

His hand was already working his pants down and freeing himself before he could even process that he was hard as a rock at the idea of taking The Lunatic Fringe again. His fingers were wrapping around his cock remembering how Ambrose whimpered, how his teeth gritted against the agony, how he bled for him.

Another moan, much louder than the first, slipped past his lips. His hand started moving when he thought about how he cried out when they switched off, Kevin taking him far rougher than he would, forcing Dean to take all of him only to pull out and do it again. Owens was ruthless, cruel, and beautifully sadistic.

And Dean. Oh the exquisite sounds of pain that the man cried out even though he tried so hard to stifle them. Defiant to the end, never truly screaming though he quite obviously wanted to. Just remembering it all made his hand move faster on his shaft as the pressure began to build in his lower half, arm shaking with the effort of trying to speed up faster and faster.

What sent him over the edge, what caused the cry of pleasure to finally be released at the same time his orgasm sent his seed free, was the look of utter defeat on Ambrose's face when he realized no one was coming to help him. He was all alone in his agony, just like he had been his entire life.

As he came down from his high, Seth knew one thing to be true...he would do it again.

\---

“Where the hell are you going?”

Deans eyes flicked up to Roman from the small plastic bags the hospital had given him for his things. It wasn't much, consisting of what he was admitted with, but he would in all honesty probably burn the bloody clothes when he got out of there. He wanted no reminders of what happened, he already had the physical marks on his body as momentos.

He couldn't stay in the hospital, wallowing in his own self pity anymore, so he signed himself out against medical advice. Yes, he was in pain; yes, every movement hurt; yes, he would feel it all with every breath he took, but a week stuck here was enough. He needed to get away from everything. That included Roman.

Looking away and making a show of stuffing his boots into the bag, he answered. “I'm outta here.”

“You can't go.”

That made Dean smirk a little, but not enough to make him change his mind. Sliding his long arms into his leather jacket, he grabbed the bag and attempted to leave. He wasn't surprised when Roman stepped into his path, but he did flinch back involuntarily. Roman noticed this and immediately put his hands up in apology.

Though he understood that Roman was just looking out for him, he didn't want to deal with his best friends hovering, he didn't want Roman to talk him out of leaving like he knew he would. “Get out of my way, Roman.”

The large Samoan looked at him with an expression somewhere between sternness and something else Dean couldn't place. But, his friend remained steadfast, not making a move. “WWE won't clear you if you leave like this.”

“I'm not going back to WWE.” He stated.

This quite obviously took Roman by surprise. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Why?”

Dean wanted to tell Roman that if he had to look at Rollins and Owens again, he wouldn't be responsible for his own actions. He wanted to tell him that he couldn't bear to even be in the same state as those two fuckers. He again wanted to tell Roman everything that happened and everything he planned as retribution. But he wouldn't, despite the pleading look he was being given right now. No. Never.

He shook his head and again made a move to get past Roman, but again the man got in his way. “Someone in the company did it, didn't they?”

Dean looked away, not willing to meet his eyes.

“Just tell me who and I'll make sure they pay.”

Blue eyes flicked to grey quickly. “Drop it.”

“No.”

With a small snarl, Dean physically pushed Roman aside. Roman Reigns couldn't help him any more than he could help himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I made Seth a sadistic asshole. I kind of want this to be a study in revenge. So, he had to be.


	5. Protection

_Hey, it's Dean. You know what to do._

Beeeeeeep

“Hey, Dean. It's Roman...again.” He said into the receiver of his phone, leaving one of what must have been a thousand voicemails for the Lunatic Fringe. “I haven't heard from you in a few months and I'm worried about you. I heard you were back in Philly with CZW. We're coming through there in a week and I'd like to talk to you. Call me back...please.”

He disconnected the call and tossed the phone on the hotel bed before lying back and putting an arm over his eyes. He was tired, so tired, and it was Dean's fault. Ever since that day in the hospital, he feared for his friend. The fact that he was back to the combat zone, a place he swore he was done with, spoke volumes about Ambrose's mental state. He wanted to hurt, he wanted to bleed, he wanted to fight and bite and claw, releasing a rage that only the combat zone could let him play out.

Dean was a sick man when he was there the first time around, reveling in the blood and violence. Now? Roman wondered just what trouble he was getting himself into.

His phone buzzed at his side and he rushed to pick it up, thinking Dean had finally, FINALLY, contacted him. No such luck. “Hey Seth, how goes it?”

“Hey, Ro.” Seth breathed through the receiver. “Any luck on finding Dean? We're all worried about him.”

Funnily enough, Seth's interest in Dean had peaked as of late, ever since this whole horrible thing happened to him. He had said it was because he was worried about him, but something in the younger man's sincerity put Roman off. He couldn't put his finger on it, and he had tried to shrug it away, but it persisted.

“I haven't heard anything from him.” Roman answered truthfully. “It's like he fell off the map. When we get to philly, I'm going to find him.”

“Well, if you want company -”

“No.” He interrupted. Despite his feelings, he knew Dean would probably brush him off by himself, let alone with another person, especially one whom had a long, drawn out feud with the man not even a year ago. “I'll go alone.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line as if Seth were trying to formulate how to speak next. “Ok. You tell him I was asking for him.”

Something in the way he said that sent an involuntary shiver down Romans spine. It was almost...cold, devious. He agreed and hung up the phone with his former teammate. Something was up with Seth Rollins.

\---

The week passed slowly, but finally they had made it to the city of brotherly love. After the RAW taping at the Wells Fargo Center, Roman had every intention of heading straight down Broad Street where he knew the death matches took place. It was a back alley factory off Broad and Ritner, just far enough away from the the average pedestrian to miss. These types of matches were dangerous, just enough shy of being the real life Fight Club to make it legal. Even walking up to the entrance had an air of danger, of exclusivity, like only the truly fucked up would even dare enter.

They patted him down at the door, took anything sharp he might have - which included his belt buckle - and checked his id. He was honestly a little surprised no one had recognized him here, though with this crowd, no one probably cared who he was. The place was crowded, more so than he expected, with few seats and most people standing around drinking beer to really care.

A fight was already going on in the ring when he settled himself against a wall in the back. Both competitors were covered in blood, one of which was wielding a staple gun against the others temple and setting it off repeatedly. It made Roman cringe, the rest of the crowd was chanting “fuck him up!”

By the time a pinfall was made, both men were bloody messes that had to be helped back stage. He watched as the crew carefully cleaned up the ring and laid out new weapons of destruction including barbed wire covered steel chairs, bags of glass, light tubes, power tools, knives and forks, kendo sticks inlaid with thumbtacks, and glass bottles. This was going to be a massacre for whoever was fighting next.

“The following is a Last Man Conscious match!” The ring announcer boomed over the loudspeaker. Music hit and the crowd went wild. He recognized that tune, Shitlist by L7. “Making his way to the ring, weighing in at 225 pounds…”

Then, there he was. Dean. Roman stood up straighter to get a better look at him from his vantage point. He looked very much the same, dressed in jeans and no shirt, save for the determined set to his jaw, the almost far away look. He was a man so drunk on his own misery he couldn't care less about anything, including himself.

“...the Street Dog, Jon Moxley!”

Dean circled the ring, not really pandering to the cheering crowd. He was obviously more concerned about the fight. Roman was so fixated he didn't even hear the name of his opponent, but the music changed and out walked a man who was a good 100 pounds heavier and about a foot taller than Dean. His friend didn't seem to mind, smirking at the man in that oh so Dean way that said ‘I'm about to fuck your shit up’.

The bell rang and all hell broke loose. For the next twenty minutes, both men threw everything they had at each other, and used everything at their disposal to try and render their opponent unconscious. Roman flinched with every strike and every blow, but couldn't take his eyes off Dean. He was mesmerizing as Jon Moxley, commanding a presence Dean Ambrose seemed to lose over the years. It didn't matter who he was fighting because all eyes were on him anyway.

At the very end of the match, the fight had spilled into the crowd. Both men were covered in each other's blood and neither seemed to care. The behemoth grabbed Dean and physically threw him over the guardrail and into some fans who ate it up. But Dean was on his feet quickly, a testament to his durability and agility. He climbed onto a chair just as his opponent was lunging for him and kicked the unsuspecting man in the head. He staggered a bit, but recovered surprisingly fast; fast enough to catch Dean on the recoil and lift him onto his shoulder to toss him like a rag doll into a wall. The wall right next to Roman.

Blue eyes met grey and each man froze. Dean was obviously shocked at seeing him standing there. But the giant of a man lunged again and this time, out of sheer instinct, Roman reared his arm back and punched him square in the nose. He fell to the floor in an unconscious heap and the crowd went silent. You could hear a pin drop. Then, just before security descended on him, he heard from somewhere in the mass of people “Did Roman Reigns just knock him the fuck out?”

And he'd do it again.


	6. Hostility

He waited in the parking lot for almost two hours. He had to see Dean, had to at least try to talk to the man who he loved like a brother and who dropped off the face of the earth to spiral out of control in these ultra violent fights he promised he would swear off. Two hours of drunk patrons walking past him, cursing at him, throwing things at him. They were not happy about him stopping that match and causing the disqualification for Dean, or Moxley, or whoever he was. .

He didn't really care. Dean was going to talk to him whether he liked it or not.

When the lights went out in the building, he wondered if he'd missed his chance, that his friend had snuck out another way. But the door opened and there he was. He caught sight of Roman and stopped for a moment as if weighing his options, fighting with himself as to whether or not he should even approach. Thankfully, he slung his backpack over his shoulder and tentatively walked toward him. The closer he got, the more prominent the scowl seemed to grow.

He stopped a few feet away and Roman could see he was apprehensive, shuffling from foot to foot and limiting his eye contact. He could also see the large slash across his left cheek and the growing black eye, but that wasn't what was important right now.

“What are you doing here, Roman?” He asked before Roman could even formulate a thought. In response, the large Samoan closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around Dean, just so happy to see him. The younger man did not return the affection, but also didn't push him away. He just stood there, tense.

He let go and took a few steps back, grinning with relief. But Dean's face remained like stone, unchanging and unfeeling. “I've been looking for you.”

“Why?”

His brows drew together and his smile dropped a bit. “No one has heard from you in months. I wanted to make sure you were alive.”

Dean scoffed. “Well, here I am...alive. Are we done?”

“No, we're not.” He answered, smile gone. “Look, is there somewhere we can go to talk that isn't an empty parking lot?”

“We have nothing to talk about.” Dean said, no emotion in his voice. He was blank, empty. “You can leave now.”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

“Fine, stay here.” He snapped and moved past Roman. “I'm going home.”

“That's a lie.” Roman called after him and Dean froze. He hadn't turned back toward him yet, but he had hit a nerve. “You're going to go drink yourself stupid. I talked to some of your so called friends while I sat here waiting for you.”

Now he turned around, the scowl replaced with all out anger. “What do you care what I do? I can take care of myself, Roman!”

“How's that working out for you?”

“You know what. Fuck you!” The anger had slipped into rage and Dean was now squaring up with him, ready to swing if things went much further. “We're not in The Shield anymore, this is not a brotherhood, and you are not my protector!”

“Well, maybe you need one.”

Dean's voice dropped low and dangerous, “Is that a fact? And who's gonna do that? You? Where were you months ago when they held me down and fucked me? When they tore me open and left me bleeding in the showers? When I was in so much fucking pain I passed out? Where were you then?”

Roman stepped closer, his own voice dangerous. “Don't you DARE think that I wouldn't have stopped it if I could have. You're the one who won't let anyone help you deal with this.”

He answered Romans question with one of his own. “What's the point?”

“Are you really that blind in your own rage that you can't see that I'm trying to help you.”

Dean's face softened. “No one can help me, Roman.”

“That's because you won't let anyone try.”

They stared at each other for a long moment and Roman could see Dean seriously considering his offer. Despite his attempts at breaking Deans walls down, the younger man still refused to let him in. He offered Roman a weak smile, adjusted the bag on his shoulder, and backed away. “Go home, Roman.”

“Listen, we're here for the next week. Please think about it.” Roman said. “We're all worried about you. Me, Dolph, Cesaro, Seth…”

“Seth?” Dean growled, his face hardening and twisting. “Seth is worried about me?”

Roman was confused, but the connections were beginning to be made. Seth's weird behavior, Dean's reaction to Seth's name…”Dean, did Seth-?”

“Don't worry about it.” Dean snapped and this time actually walked away from Roman. He watched him until he turned a corner out of sight.

But now he knew…

He knew...

 


	7. Peace Offering

He didn't know what to do. In all honesty, he should call the cops, but they wouldn't do anything without deans cooperation. Besides, it'd been so long, it was now Seths word against Deans.

But something had to be done. But what? He had no idea. Dean had run away from this and that made him a victim. What was done to him was horrible and could not go unpunished. Hell, the man had to get stitches in his ass thanks to Seth Rollins.

No, something had to be done, something to give dean the closure his tortured mind needed. Could Roman do it? Could he help seek the retribution that was denied his friend? Would dean accept his help? Would it even matter in the long run. What he was thinking would change everyone, and not necessarily for the better.

It wouldn't be hard. A quick text. A blunt object. Some duct tape. Dean. Dean was the key. However, the lunatic fringe had made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing to do with Roman anymore. He wanted nothing to do with anyone. He preferred to fight, bleed, and drink to numb the memory.

But Roman couldn't let him continue down that road. He'd wind up dead sooner or later. Maybe this was what he needed. This is how Roman could help.

Dean wasn't hard to find once you knew where unto look. A few days and a few beatings later, he was at the same bar his friends said he could be found. He was sitting alone in the corner, sipping on a beer with three empty bottles on the ratty wooden table in front of him. His feet were propped up on an opposing chair and he was alternating between drinking the beer in his hand and putting it against his forehead with a wince. Roman had watched the last fight, hidden in the back like before, and he saw the ass kicking Dean had taken.

He almost didn't approach him, the nervous shake of his hand an indicator of his apprehension. But he had gone too far now. He ordered two bottles of what Dean was drinking and approached the table cautiously, knowing that the Lunatic Finge would not be happy to see him. And he was right, if the eye roll and heavy sigh were any indicator.

“Peace offering.” He said with a small smile and placed the beer in front of Dean. He hesitated, but took it with a slight nod. Roman took this as an invitation to sit and pulled an extra chair up to the table. “I'm sorry how our last meeting ended. It was wrong of me to ambush you like that.”

Dean smiled and shook his head, amused at the apology. “Whatever, man. It is what it is.”

“That looks pretty nasty.” He said with a wince as Dean again placed the cold glass against his forehead. There was a purplish, swollen bruise just above his left eyebrow, one that would have probably been a concussion in any other circumstance.

“I don't recommend taking a tire iron to the face.” The other man said with a grin as if proud of the beating he had survived. “But I've had worse.”

He could have brought up just what that ‘worse’ was, but he left it lie for now. “I saw the fight. You seem to thrive in these dangerous matches.”

“It ain't about how hard you can hit, Roman.” He said, still a small upturn to the edges of his mouth. “It's about how hard you can get hit and keep swinging.”

“Well, you can definitely get hit.”

Dean put the beer down and dragged his feet off the chair and back to the floor so he could look Roman more squarely in the eye. He wasn't stupid, far from it, and he was well aware Roman hadn't tracked him down again for idle chit chat. “What are you doing here Roman? I know it ain't for no peace offering.”

This time Roman smiled. “I have something for you. Something I think will help you get over what happened.”

Dean shook his head. “I doubt it.”

“Come with me.” The large Samoan said and stood from the table.

“No fucking way.”

“Dean, I promise it will be worth it.”

There was a long moment when he honestly thought Dean might refuse him, but the Lunatic Fringe quickly downed his beer and stood, throwing a few bills down on the table for the waitress. “This better be fucking good.”

A short walk and they were in the warehouse district, well away from the prying eyes of pedestrians and cops. Dean noticed his pretty quickly and began tensing up further as he was led by Roman to a large set of doors. Before he opened them, he turned back to face Dean. “I'm not stupid, I know it was Seth who raped you.”

Dean seemed surprised by the admission, but said nothing to confirm or deny it.

Roman continued. “This is the closure I think you need.”

He opened the doors and flipped on a set of lights. In the center of a large empty room was a single chair. In that single chair was a man, taped to the wood by his arms and legs. There was a bag over his head, obscuring his face, but Dean didn't have to guess the man's identity.

Roman reigns had kidnapped Seth Rollins.

“Ro...I…”

The large Samoan held up a hand to stop him. “I know. No need to thank me.”

“Thank you?!” Dean snapped to Romans surprise. “What am I supposed to do with him?!”

“Whatever you want.” he answered. “That's the point.”

Dean ran a hand down his face and thought for a long moment. “So, he's mine? To get my revenge?”

“Yes.”

“You missed one thing.”

“What's that?”

A wicked grin spread across Dean's face as the wheels began turning. “I need Kevin Owens too.”


	8. Counterplay

Dean watched Seth stir in the chair, hoping he knew just what he had been planning if he ever had this opportunity. He hoped the half blonde bastard was aware that Dean would make him pay for taking everything away from him. He hoped Seth screamed. He hope Seth begged. He hope Seth suffered.

He was thankful, however, that Roman had gone to find Kevin. The Samoan he once called brother surprised him with his willingness to be a part of something so horrible, for him, to make him feel better, for his own twisted sense of revenge. He underestimated roman Reigns, a mistake he would not make again.

Seth groaned as he slowly came back to consciousness and Dean felt his stomach flip in anticipation. He had dreamt of this moment for months; what he would say, what he would do.

But Seth was taking to long for his liking, so he stalked over to him and gave him a whack to the head over the hood still obscuring the man's vision. He wasn't ready for Seth to know it was him, he wanted him to stew for a while first, so he said nothing when seth, now fully awake, began asking questions, panicking just enough to give Dean the thrill he was looking for.

“What the fuck!” He said, voice muffled and heavy from the hood. “Where am I?”

Dean said nothing, but whacked him again.

“Shit! Who's there!?”

Again silence and a blow to the cheek.

“Look, you're making a mistake whoever you are!”

Dean was silent, but rather than hitting him he leaned his hands on the arms of the chair and watched. He watched Seth's head move from side to side as he tried to get a glimpse through the heavy fabric. He watched his chest heave as adrenaline coursed through him. He watched him nervously shake his legs. This was perfect.

“I have money.” The prone man said quietly, earning an amused grin from Dean. Resorting to bargaining, huh? “I can pay you. Just let me go.”

He’d let him squirm enough. “I don't want your fucking money, scumbag.”

“Dean!?”

That was the fear he was hoping to hear. Seth had to know he was fucked, he had to be aware that Dean wouldn't let him go without some retribution. And that made him feel powerful and...happy. Happy for the first time in months.

Yet, that fear in his captives voice that gave him such a surge of power was gone, shattering his sense of control again, just like he did all those months ago. And he did it by laughing. Seth Rollins was laughing. Laughing like a maniac while strapped to a chair at the mercy of the man who would no sooner castrate him then look at him. Dean felt his face flush with anger, the smile long gone from his lips, and he reared back his fist to land a heavy blow to Seth's face, but stopped when he began to speak.

“You simple fuck!” Seth said, catching Dean off guard. “You seriously think this will change anything?”

Dean growled loudly and used his foot to tip Seth's chair back until he heard the satisfying thud of the back of his fucking head hit the concrete. He watched Seth lie there, groaning and dazed, and the smirk was back. Walking to him slowly, well aware the hooded man could hear him approach, he used his foot and pressed down on his throat and chuckled at the gurgling sound he had as he cut his airflow. He could stay like this until he passed out, he could even stay like this until he killed him. Funny thing was, he didn't want Seth dead, he just wanted him to suffer.

After a moment far longer than it should have been, Dean lifted his foot and Seth drew in a lungful of air so loud and swift that he knew it must have hurt when he began coughing and gasping. Good. He knelt down so he was more on the same level as his captive and again watched him struggle for breath, the hood rising and falling with every inhale and exhale.

“Seth, Seth, Seth…” he sighed, almost sounding bored. “I know I can't change what happened, but I can hurt you for it. And I plan to. You, are going to suffer for what you put me through.”

Again Seth was laughing, but it was forced, strained, a show of bravado that was obviously beginning to crack. “If I get out of this, I'm gonna fucking kill you.”

“More likely you'll wish you had killed me in the first place.”

* * *

 

What was he doing? He was an upstanding member of society, only arrested once when he was a teenager for a misdemeanor crime. Yet, here he was, an unconscious body in the trunk for the SECOND time this evening.

Kevin was easier to get then Seth, oddly enough. He never really paid as much attention to his surroundings as he should, never really thinking anyone would get the better of him because of his size and strength. But it was nothing for Roman to clock him with a discarded 2x4 in the parking lot and heave him into his trunk.

But he was already stirring when Roman closed the lid. He didn't have much time before he would be awake and PISSED. But that's not what worried him. He knew he was speeding, no choice really.

All he would need now was…

The red and blue lights flashed behind him and his heart stopped. “No! No! No! Fuck!”

What could he do? He pulled over and waited. He hated that cops always made you wait. But he couldn't seem suspicious, had to act natural when the officer approached his rolled down window. “Evening officer.”

“License and registration please.”

Apparently they were dispensing with the pleasantries. He pulled out his id and the registration for the rental car and again waited while the officer looked them over. “Roman Reigns? Aren't you that wrestler guy?”

He flashed a smile, “Yeah, that's me.”

“My wife loves you.” He said flatly and Roman was unsure if that was a good or bad thing.

The officer was watching him carefully so he gave the most noncommittal answer he could think of. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” The officer replied, stone faced. “Sometimes I think more than me.”

Roman laughed at what he hoped was a joke, but covered it with a cough when he realized the cop wasn't amused. “Sorry.”

“You're tail lights out and you were speeding.” He said, pulling out his little notepad and jotting down something. Roman didn't care, he just wanted the ticket and the officer gone before Owens woke up.

He smiled appeasingly, “Sorry officer, it's a rental. Not used to it yet.”

“Regardless.” He said and handed Reigns the ticket just as a loud groan came from the trunk.

Roman tried to cover it with a cough when the officer drew his brows together. “I've been fighting a cold. I'll be sure to pay more attention.”

“Make sure you do.”

Another groan and another round of fake coughing.

“And get that cough looked at.” Said the cop as he walked away. “You sound horrible.”

“Will do! Thanks officer!” He called out after him and waited for the police cruiser to pull away before banging his head on the steering wheel.

“What the hell am I doing…”


	9. Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this was posted for like 20 minutes and I took it down to add more to it.

“Dean, I could use a little help.”

Dean turned away from Seth still lying on his back, feet dangling over the edge of the chair. The hood was still over his head so he couldn't see the grin on his face, but Dean was sure he could hear it when he lightly tapped him on the chest, “Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back.”

“Fuck you!” Seth yelled back, but was ignored.

“What's the matter?” He asked Roman quietly as he approached the large Samoan only halfway through the door. “You get Kevin?”

Reigns looked back at the rental car and Dean immediately realized the problem. He could hear Owens screaming and kicking from inside the trunk from where he was standing a few yards away. “Yeah, I got him…” Said Roman. “But he's not happy.”

“Good.” Said Dean with a sinister grin spreading across his face.

Roman rolled his eyes at him, “Dean, he's going to fight back. We might be able to subdue him together, but…”

“But what? We've beaten Kevin Owens before, Ro.”

“Not like this, man.”

He pushed past Reigns with a muttered ‘whatever’ and approached the trunk. He could make out more of what the bear of a man was saying now and it made him chuckle.

“You mother fucker! I'm gonna fuck you up so bad they'll need dental records! Let me out of this goddamn trunk! Fucking! Fuck!”

Roman was at his side when he knocked on the lid. All movement stopped inside as Kevin stilled, realizing someone was out there. “Hey Kev! How yah doin’ in there?”

“Ambrose?!” The voice was muffled, but that didn't hide the shock there. Then an audible growl that made Dean laugh. He had him right where he wanted him. “You son of a bitch! I'll fucking kill you!”

“You may want to get in line, big man.”

There was a loud bang when something hit the trunk lid, a foot or a fist maybe. it caused Roman to jump back slightly, but not Dean. No, Dean stood grinning like a maniac and that sent a shiver up Romans spine. What had he done?

“Ambrose, you let me out of here right now!”

“No can do ombré.” He laughed, leaning on the trunk lid with his arms crossed and his chin resting on top of his forearms. “See, I got some revenge to exact and I need you to do just that.”

“Revenge?” Kevin chuckled. “You think this will change what happened, you little whore? You know you liked it.”

Dean's face twisted into an angry scowl and he snarled loudly. That's when Roman really got a sense of how truly messed up and depraved Kevin and Seth had been. He had a sense before, having seen Dean in the hospital with his mind snapping slowly from the assault. But they had really done a number on him.

Dean pushed past Roman again, hands tugging at his hair as he began to pace frantically back and forth in the middle of the street. Roman was on him quickly, taking a hold of his shoulders to at least get him to calm down. He was hyperventilating, cursing under his breath, and his eyes were manic and wet with unshed tears. “Dean, Jesus Christ, take a breath!”

Dean did just that, breathing in a large lungful of air and blowing it out slowly, trying to reign his anger in the best he could. “How could he say that, Ro!? How could he say I liked it!? Do they understand what they did to me!?”

“Dean! You need to calm down.” Roman said carefully. “I need you here to do this. We've got two kidnapped, angry men to deal with and I cannot do it on my own. This is for you, man!”

“Mother fucking piece of shit!” He damn near yelled in response, totally ignoring Romans pleas. “I should just rip his fucking balls off with my bare hands and shove them up his ass and see how much he likes it!”

That's when Roman slapped him, hard, and his eyes shot to Romans in shock, wide with the remnants of his panic. He said nothing though and hand finally stopped moving long enough for reigns to get a good look at him and try to talk some sense into the fuming man in front of him. “You listen to me, Ambrose. You have to realize that they are going to try to get under your skin. They're trapped animals looking for anyway to lash out. You go back in there and deal with Rollins. Leave Owens to me for now, okay?”

Dean found himself nodding slowly and being shoved gently in the direction of the warehouse where he had left Rollins a few minutes before. Yes, this is what he needed to do. He needed to deal with one at a time. Owens wasn't going anywhere being locked in a trunk and Reigns on lookout. And Rollins…

Wait, where the fuck was Rollins?

He stared in horror at the empty chair lying just where he left it, the hood draped neatly over one of the legs, the shredded tape scattered across the floor, and his captive nowhere to be seen. “Oh fuck…”

He turned with every intention of calling for Roman but froze in his tracks when he came face to face with his bitter enemy. Seth was grinning as Dean took several wary steps back. He closed the warehouse door and locked it before leaning his back against the metal and watching the lunatic fringe squirm under his gaze. “You really shouldn't have left me alone, Ambrose.”

Dean put his hands out like that would hold Rollins back. He may have been grinning at him, but anger was definitely dancing in his dark eyes. “Seth, wait.”

“Wait?” Seth laughed, the sound a sadistic cackle as he pushed off the door and started advancing toward him. Dean wondered if he could get Romans attention, could he make it to the door? Then he saw the pipe in Seths hand as he tapped it gently against his thigh. “Here's the thing, I have been thinking about that day for months now, getting off on those little whimpers of pain you tried so hard to hold in. It was beautiful, like music to my ears. Then, you up and disappeared back to the Combat Zone and my opportunity to have you again slipped through my fingers. But then, you up and bring me right to you because you think you're going to get some sort of revenge. Silly you, Deano. Silly you.”

Dean was backing up with every step Seth took toward him. He was so focused on keeping Rollins a distance away that he forgot about the discarded chair and tripped backwards, landing awkwardly on his back. Seth was on him in a flash, pinning Dean beneath him and pressing the pipe to his throat with both hands. Though he also had a grip on the pipe, Dean couldn't match the force of Seth's body weight by pushing up, but he did at least manage to keep him from crushing his windpipe.

Seth's face was mere inches from his and he could feel the heat of his breath on his face when he spoke. “You know, Dean, you said I would wish I had killed you, but I think you have that backwards. I think YOU wish I had killed you. You run off to join the death match circus and think that all that pain is just a way to forget about how I felt inside you. In reality, you like the pain. You like tasting your own blood. Deep down inside, I think you liked what happened because I was so close to putting you out of your fucking misery.”

All Dean could do was growl and snarl at him as he grinned in His face with that stupid space between his two front teeth. But he had hit a nerve somewhere deep inside Dean, a dead feeling he had long forgotten about. And, based on the widening of his sneer, Rollins fucking knew it.

Seth leaned forward, pressing more of his bodyweight onto the pipe, now effectively cutting off deans air. His face was right by his ear when he spoke again, a purr mirroring the sickening softness of that night all those months ago. “Here how this is going to go, Ambrose. I'm going to shove my dick into you again and you're going to take it like the good little slut you are. After I've don't that, I'm going to grant your wish and put you out of your misery. They will never find your body, but who would miss a loser like you anyway.”


	10. Destruction

Dean's vision was getting hazy at the edges, a dark ring of fog creeping in as his body screamed for the oxygen Seth was denying him. His eyes had begun to roll into the back of his head by the time Seth remotely realized what was happening. He was too busy nibbling at Dean's ear and muttering the filthy things he was going to do to him before he finally killed him. Dean's mind was racing in every direction. Was Seth trying to turn him on to prove just how sick he was? Was he trying to humiliate him? It wouldn't work. None of it. But Seth? Dean could feel the hard weight of Seth's erection through his clothes and it sent a shiver of disgust through him.

He tried to will himself to stay conscious. He couldn't pass out, that would leave him vulnerable and easy to take advantage of. But it was getting tougher as his brain tried desperately to shut down against him. By the time his hands limply fell from the pipe at his throat, unable to fight back anymore, Seth realized Dean was fading.

“Oh no, Ambrose, I want you awake for this.” He cooed in his ear before removing the offending obstruction. He drew in a breath so forceful it physically hurt. The following coughs and gasps for air were just as painful.

Seth was sneering at him, even as Dean tried to push in off of him in a last ditch attempt to regain some control through his gasps for oxygen. He was easily able to deflect the lunatic fringes weakened shoves and punches, cackling the entire time at the victory he again won over his rival. Dean hated him. He hated him with every fiber of his being, but his body wasn't reacting like it should thanks to the oxygen deprivation. Seth was able to easily grab his wrists and hold them while he undid deans belt and pulled it free with one swift tug.

He was on his stomach before he could react, arms wrenched behind his back and the feeling of leather slipping over and tightening around his wrists. His eyes widened at the sudden realization that Seth was going to do this, rape and kill him. No! No! No! That's when his brain caught up and he began to struggle.

“Quit moving Ambrose!” Seth gritted out with an emphasizing slap to the back of Dean's head.

Fuck that! He struggled. He struggled for dear life. Trying desperately to call for Roman, to get his attention somehow. His voice was hoarse thanks to the pipe at his throat and he wasn't able to get the force behind the cry for help. Rollins’ hand was over his mouth in an instant and he wrenched Dean's body up at an awkward angle, eliciting grunts of pain. Without the benefit of his hands for support, all of Seth weight was able to press on his lower back. Fuck it hurt.

He could see the back of Romans head through the small window just to the left of the door. He could see him! He just needed to turn around, just turn around and see that Dean needed his help desperately. Just turn around Roman!

Seth was at his ear again, licking up the lobe. Dean shivered in revulsion. “He's right there, Dean.” He whispered. “Your big, bad protector? What good is he? I'm gonna fuck you and he's gonna be none the wiser. Maybe I'll leave you alive long enough to see me do the same to him.”

That was it, the last straw. He couldn't let Seth hurt Roman. Despite how he had pushed him away these past months, Reigns was his friend, someone he would have called brother, someone he cared about like family. He'd be damned if he's let the sadistic Rollins hurt him. So, he bit down on Seth's hand hard enough to taste blood and the man screamed in pain.

That's when Roman turned around.

That's when everything went black.

* * *

 

* _Several minutes prior_ *

Kevin had been awfully quiet since he sent Ambrose back to deal with Seth. Not that he should be complaining, but it definitely didn't feel right. He didn't trust Kevin Owens on a good day, let alone locked in a trunk and pissed off. But he hadn't made a sound. What was he doing in there?

He approached the vehicle slowly, unsure what to expect. “Kevin?”

No answer. Reigns could hear small clicking sounds coming from inside the trunk, like metal tapping against metal.

He got closer, “Kevin, what are you doing?”

Again, more clicking noises but now answer. Fearful now that something had happened to Owens before Dean could get to him, he placed his ear against the trunk and listened.

There was a loud POP sound and the trunk lid flew open, hitting Roman in the side of the head with enough intensity to send him off balance and onto his ass. “Fuck!” He cried out, dabbing at the sharp pain in his temple and coming back with red fingertips. And that's when he saw Owens climbing from the trunk, a tire iron in his hand and a look so angry it could melt steel.

“I hope you like pain, Reigns.” He said, lunging for the Samoan. He didn't know how, but he managed to roll out of the way seconds before Owens collided it him. He dragged himself to his feet and backed up toward the warehouse.

A scream drew his attention and he turned just in time to see Rollins hit Dean with a pipe and the Lunatic Fringe go limp. Rollins looked up then and saw the horrified expression on Roman's face only to smile and wave at him.

He didn't feel Kevin approach, but he did feel the blow to the back of the head. He fell like a stone, dazed but not quite unconscious. He vaguely heard Kevin speaking but he couldn't make out what it was he was saying, he heard the sound of the door opening, he felt himself being dragged by the legs and the door shut and lock again. He managed to roll onto his side and came face to face with Dean, lying next to him with blood slowly dripping from an unseen wound onto his forehead. For a moment, Roman thought he might be dead, but he could see the rise and fall of his torso. That was some comfort he supposed.

He felt weight on him, but not Kevin's. This was lighter but no less strong. In his daze he couldn't do much to fight back as he was turned onto his back and his eyes locked with Seth's. He was grinning maniacally, inspecting the Samoans face and chest.

“Roman thought he could help his baby brother get revenge.” Seth said, a chuckle playing with every word. “Little did you know things would go so horribly, horribly wrong. You should have left Deano alone, it probably would have saved his life...and yours. But now? Well, I always wondered what it'd be like to fuck you. Guess I'll give it a go. right Kevin?”

“I'm already hard thinking about it, Rollins.” Said Owens with a sneer. “I want first crack at the powerhouse.”

Seth frowned and was on his feet and in Owens’ face. “What makes you think you get to have Reigns first?”

Owens snarled and stepped up to Rollins. “You got Ambrose first. I'm owed this!”

“You ain't owed shit, Owens!”

“Who made you the fucking boss?!” Kevin snapped and shoved Seth back.

The two continued to bicker back and forth, but Reigns had stopped listening. Them fighting was the distraction he needed. He managed to roll onto his side and get an arm on Dean. Using the younger mans jacket, he pulled him toward him until he could get at his bound wrists.

“R-Ro-?” He heard from Dean, barely a whisper. He was coming to, that was a good sign. He would need him conscious if either of them had a chance here.

“Yeah, it's me.” He whispered back as he got the belt around Deans wrists loose. “We're getting out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie...I have NO IDEA how to end this lol


	11. Dominance

“Reigns and I have a history, Kevin!” Seth damn near yelled with a shove to the larger mans shoulder, sending him slightly off balance. “You won't take that moment away from me!”

It definitely didn't get his point across as Kevin righted himself with a turned up snarl at the Architect. “Yeah, well, that doesn't matter right now, does it?”

Seth narrowed his eyes, unsure if Kevin -volatile on a good day- was going to try something he would regret. “What?”

Rather than jumping him like he had expected, Kevin pointed to the spot behind him and his stomach sank to his feet when he saw the spot previously occupied by his ‘brothers’ empty save for the leather belt used to hold Dean's wrists. “Fuck! Where did they go!?”

“Beats me.” Replied Kevin with a shrug and a snide grin. “You were too busy exerting your dominance to realize they escaped.”

Seth couldn't help but growl at him when he pushed at his shoulder a second time with instructions to find Dean and Roman before they got away. He didn't have to tell the prizefighter the implications of what would happen if they were to get free.

Roman watched the interaction from behind a large, forgotten crate situated not far from the fuming men. Dean sat next to him, still dazed and groggy, but conscious and rubbing the back of his head. “Are you okay?” He whispered.

The younger man looked up at him with an expression of rage and frustration and disappointment...and not necessarily at Seth. “I'm fine.”

“Good.” Roman said, not really able to coddle his brother right now. “We gotta get to the rental and get outta here.”

“I ain't going anywhere.” Dean said suddenly, to Romans shock.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Dean gingerly pulled himself to a crouch and swiped the pipe from Roman's hand. “I'm finishing this.”

“Dean, let's just go.” The Samoan pleaded. The look in Dean's eyes told him he could beg and plead all he wanted, but he was going to end this tonight. What Seth and Kevin had done to him was unforgivable in any circumstance, but given they had gotten away with it while Dean fell back into the deathmatch scene and booze to numb the pain of what they put him through, was a sin that needed to be paid for. And Dean was going to collect it in blood...with interest.

Blue eyes met stormy grey. They were angry and hurt and unsated. “Go if you want.” He said. “But I ain't lettin’ him or Kevin walk outta here.”

Roman sighed and shook his head before running an exasperated hand down his face. “Okay. Okay, let's do this.”

“You don't have to be a part of this, man.” Dean said as if offering his friend a way out, a chance to walk away and not look back at the reign of carnage the damaged Ohioan was about to lay down.

However, There was a ghost of a smile on Dean's lips as Roman conceded. “We're brothers to the end.”

Yet, He wondered just how far the Lunatic Fringe planned on taking this. He had a glimpse now of the fear and apprehension Dean had gone through, Seth having threatened to do the same to him he had done to his brother in arms all those months ago when he broke him, but it was nowhere near the amount of pain and suffering Ambrose was forced to take. He needed to be stopped, but they could just call the police. When he brought this up to Dean, he did nothing but snort his disapproval.

“Cops ain’t gonna do shit, Ro.” He spat.

In all fairness, he was probably right.

“What's your plan then?”

Dean held up the pipe and smirked. “I'm going to stick this right up Main Street and make him beg for mercy.”

Roman wasn't sure he was kidding.

 

 


	12. Stealth

The pipe felt good in his hand, heavy, a familiar weight not unlike some of the tools he'd used in the combat zone. It made him feel powerful, in control, dangerous; a wolf stalking its prey.

Yes, he was the wolf, Seth Rollins his objective. He was almost giddy at the idea of destroying the half blonde son of a bitch, and he planned to with unbridled aggression.

Seth may have taken him off guard before, but he wouldn't do it again. Never again. No, Dean was taking back control.

Roman had gone to find Kevin, so that left Dean to his own creative devices. Dangerous.

He smiled at the thought, moving through the shadows of this warehouse. He was suddenly back on the streets of Cincinnati, moving quietly to avoid the drug dealers and dregs of society that made up his childhood. He'd survived that, he could survive Seth Rollins.

He could hear him moving. He wasn't as stealthy as he thought he was, despite his ninja-like reputation. He was shuffling his feet, heavy steps on the cold concrete floor. Idiot. Dean knew to keep his steps light as the balls of his feet and knees took the brunt of the impact when he stepped down, muffling the sound of his sneakers on cement. The man would put up a fight, Dean knew that and he hoped he made it good.

He turned a corner and there he was, his back to Dean as he searched, mumbling curses when he came up short. How could someone who considered themselves to be so smart be so stupid.

Then a thought struck him and he stopped moving. Seth wasn't stupid. In fact, he was extremely far from it. What if Seth was doing this on purpose? What if he knew Dean wouldn't let this go, would still seek revenge? What if he was making sure Dean knew where he was and was putting on a show to lull him into a false sense of security?

Should he risk it? Could he get the jump on Seth? Did Seth know he was even standing here wondering what his next move would be? Did he already know before Dean even could formulate the plan in his own head.

There was also the small matter of Roman searching out Kevin. Seth would know they had split up; he would have known Dean would seek him out; he would have known Roman would go along with this plan.

So many questions and variables that could end dangerously. If Seth was already predicting Deans moves in his head, then the thing to do would be to be unpredictable, lull the bastard into his own false sense of security.

Maybe the wolf isn't what he needed to be.

Maybe he needed to be the hawk, watching his prey from a distance. Maybe, just maybe, he needed to walk away now and make his move later, circle the carcass as it were.

He could take them both out that way, remove Roman from the equation and blame. It's the least he could do for someone who willingly put himself in harm's way for a friend who wanted nothing to do with him, who pushed him away to wallow in his own self pity.

Yes, that was his new plan. To be unpredictable. To let Seth sweat. Torture him with anticipation.

Another smile spread across his face and he slid back into the shadows.

He needed to find Roman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this is delayed in coming. I've had a hard time getting back into this mindset, but I hope you liked this chapter - even if it is short.


	13. Proposition

It wasn't as easy to find Roman. For a big man, he was pretty stealthy. This only added to his previous suspicion that Rollins was putting on a show, trying to lead Dean directly to him. If Seth was easier to find than Roman, and Seth would be considered to be the more stealthy of the three, then it would lend itself to think that Seth was definitely up to something.

In all honesty, he did have to smile. The differences between the three were striking, always had been. Especially when it came to Dean and Seth. Polar opposites. Even now, when Dean was so ready to barrel over Seth with a pipe without thinking twice about it, he knew that was so inherently him. Even in when they were in the Shield, Dean was always the ‘go in, guns blazing’ type; go out the winner or on a stretcher, there was no in between. But Seth? No, Seth was very methodical and careful, never did anything without a plan to back it up. Every move he made was a predetermined dance he had gone over in his head, carefully assessing every possible strike and countermove. A chess player, through and through.

Maybe that's why Seth did this. Maybe this was Seth's plan all along. Take out his biggest threat by taking everything from him - his mind, his career, his passion, his body.

Maybe that's why he involved Owens; a guy to take the fall if something were to go horribly wrong. But Owens couldn't be stupid enough to not know that, could he? Seth was always very, very good at making you believe his idea was your idea. Hell, he'd done it to Dean in the ring thousands of times. Even when he knew exactly what Seth was doing, he fell for it. Every goddamn time.

Owens was just a pawn on Seth's chessboard. Using that logic, the biggest threat on a chessboard is the queen, but it's not the end goal; That was to topple the king. If Dean was the queen piece, who was the king?

Then it hit him. It hit him like a chair shot to the head. How could he be so stupid!

Roman.

Roman was the king! He was the pet project, the future, the new face of WWE. The entire locker room knew that. Dean may have been his most immediate threat, but his ultimate goal was to take Roman out of the picture. He hit Roman right where it hurt, too. In his family. He knew Roman would be distracted if something happened to Dean, something devastating and out of his control. He knew exactly how Dean would react, and he knew exactly how Roman would react.

And it worked. It fucking worked! Romans losing streak and the fans reaction have been horrible lately, stemming directly from Deans abrupt departure. It was enough for the brass at the company to consider a new direction. And who do you think they were considering? Seth fucking Rollins.

Mother fucker.

He put Dean through physical hell, raped him, and damn near killed him, just to get Roman where it hurt.

He didn't realize he had broken into a run until the sound of his fast footfalls on concrete became loud in his ear. He didn't care about stealth now, Seth was already onto him.

“Roman!” He was yelling now, not caring who or what heard him. “Ro!”

Fuck Seth! Fuck Owens! Fuck this! There were more important things to consider now than just his own petty need for revenge. His family was in danger. Family he had pushed away, family who risked everything for him, family willing to go to war with him. He couldn't let this happen. They needed to get out!

“Roman? Where are you, buddy?”

“Dean?” He heard from somewhere in the distance. It was definitely Romans gruff voice, but he didn't sound right. Fuck!

He was sprinting now, pipe still in hand, as he searched out his friend, his brother. “Roman! Where are you?!”

He skidded to a stop when he found him. He wasn't alone. Kevin had his arm around Roman’s neck in a sleeper hold held just tight enough to incapacitate him, but not knock him out. His nose was bloody and dripping down his face and onto Kevin while he weakly clawed to try and free himself.

Seth was grinning sinisterly, watching Dean as he threw his hands up defensively. “Lose the weapon.”

He growled, but threw the pipe aside and it clanged loudly against the concrete floor somewhere in the distance, echoing off the steel walls of the warehouse like a punctuation mark. This was bad, very bad. And again, Seth had the upper hand.

“You wised up since you left WWE, Dean.” He said in that voice that was so mocking and, yet, strangely complementary at the same time. “I thought for sure you'd attack me from behind with that pipe. I was waiting for it. Hell, I made it easy enough for you to find me. But you didn't fall for it. Nicely done.”

“Let him go.” Dean replied cautiously, unsure just what Seth was planning, though he knew for sure what he was capable of. It was all he could reply. He had no idea what was going to happen and if Seth was determined enough to take Roman out of the picture, it would only take a little more force from Kevin to crush Roman's windpipe. “Please.”

Seth tilted his head as if confused, or surprised, or both. “Did you just say ‘please’?”

Dean swallowed hard and nodded, knowing Seth would have found the small statement intriguing but unable to contain it.

His grin widened and Dean wanted nothing more than to rip it off his fucking face. “Say it again.”

Dean wanted to tell him no. He wanted to tell him to fuck off. He wanted to tell him to crawl back into that hell pit he came from. But he made the mistake of looking Roman's pleading, fading eyes and all the things he wanted to say went out the window. He barely recognized his own squeak of a voice when he repeated the one word that tasted bitter on his tongue because it meant Seth won. “Please.”

He was still grinning, observing Dean from head to toe as if he couldn't believe he had gotten him to say that one word. “Please, what?”

He snarled at Seth, bared his teeth and everything, but the man never backed down. The smile on his face never wavered, never cracked. Dean hated him. He hated him with everything he was. But he had hesitated and Seth didn't like that. One look back at Kevin and the large man tightened his hold on Roman forcing a strangled gasp for air from the man.

“Fuck! Don't hurt him!” He cried out before he could stop himself, but Seth just looked back at him expectantly. He had to grit his teeth around the words when he answered, knowing they were what Seth wanted to hear; words Seth would take advantage of. “Please, Seth. I- I'll do whatever you want.”

He cackled then, honest to god cackling. He'd won and he knew it and Dean knew it and, based on the disappointed look on Roman's face, he knew it as well. Dean cast his eyes away, to the dirt on his own shoes, all sense of defiance gone.

“Get on your knees, Ambrose.” Seth instructed, a command he expected Dean to follow, which he did. He dropped to his knees slowly, one at a time, and waited. Again, sickening laughter filled the space and echoed around him like a crowd at some nameless stadium.

“You're so fucking easy.” Seth chuckled. Dean could hear him taking slow, methodical steps toward him. “I'm curious, would it have been this easy months ago?”

He didn't answer and Seth seemed to drop it, kneeling down to his level close enough to make Dean look at him but far enough away that he couldn't grab him if he wanted to. Always calculating Deans moves before he does. When he looked up, Seth was watching him face with an amused grin.

“Have you figured me out yet?” He asked quietly. Dean didn't have to answer, Seth already knew he had. “Took you long enough.”

Then he stood and observed Dean with a darker look on his face, though the grin never wavered. “I think I like this submissive version of you, Dean. Shame.”

“Let Roman go, Seth.” Repeated Dean after a long moment.

Another curious head tilt and a tisk-tisk sound. “But he's the one who I need out of the way. I can kill him quick, no problem. But you. I can have so much fun with you before I finally break your neck. I told you before Dean, those little whimpers of yours when I had my dick buried deep were like music to my ears. I wonder if it'd be the same if you give it to me willingly? I'm anxious to find out.”

“Fuck you!” Dean snapped, eyes finally lifting to meets Seth's. “Never gonna happen.”

Another strangled cry from Roman made him almost jump out of his skin.

“I'll tell you what, Deano.” Seth began, circling him like a shark who had just smelled blood in the water. “You do what I tell you too and I'll just break his knees to make sure he's put out of commission. It's not like he can go to the cops anyway. I mean, he's the one who kidnapped Owens and myself.”

“D-Dean...no-o!” Roman sputtered around Owens’ arm, which tightened again.

Dean thought a moment, “How do I know you'll keep your word? That you won't just kill him anyway?”

There was that grin again when he stopped circling and came to rest in front of him. “You don't. Now, suck my dick. And make it good.”

Dean never moved, resigning to glaring at Seth with all the malice he could muster. It wasn't until Seth grabbed a hold of his hair and pull his head back painfully did he even make a sound. “Did you hear me, or are you just too stupid to think I won't actually have Owens break his neck?”

Roman yelped when Kevin began piling his head back at an awkward angle, increasing pressure on the neck joint and coming precariously close to snapping the vertebra of Roman's spine, just to accentuate Seth's point.

“I fucking hate you.” Dean gritted out.

Seth made a point to tug harder on his hair. “You don't have to like me to suck my cock.”

Dean swallowed hard, throat dry, and nodded. What else could he do? Seth released his hold on his hair and waited expectantly with his crotch right in Dean's face. Tentatively, he reached up and unbuckled Seth's jeans, his fingers fumbling over themselves. Next, the zipper. He was hard as a rock when Dean finally got him free and he moaned and closed his eyes when Dean's hand wrapped around him and held steady there.

He chanced a glance at Roman and watched him watch what was unfolding with a mix of disappointment and fear. That's when Dean winked.

There is always one thing Seth always forgets about Dean - you can't predict someone who's unpredictable.

With one fluid and strong twist of his wrist, Dean damn near wrenched Seth's cock from his body. The younger man's eyes snapped open and he screamed.

Dean was on his feet quickly as Roman elbowed Kevin in the side and the man let go with an ‘oof’. Roman took the opportunity to superman punch Owens in the side of the head and the large man fell like a stone.

Dean still had an iron grip on Seth's dick, making sure he could feel his nails dig into the tender flesh. “I've wanted to do that for months.” He laughed in his former friends anguished face. “Thank you, Seth.”

Then he leaned back and head butted him as hard as he could. Seth fell to the ground unconscious.

Dean and Roman shared a look as only the sound of their labored breathing filled the quiet space.

“Let's get out of here.” He said.

“You sure you want to just leave them?” Roman asked, touching the tip of his still bleeding nose. “He's right, we can't go to the police. We leave, that's it.”

Dean observed Seth for a long moment and seriously considered castrating him for good measure. But no. He was better than that, despite what people thought.

“I'm sure.” He answered. “He's not worth it.”


	14. Checkmate

_ Three weeks later _

“Hey, Seth.” Triple H, one of WWE's best and current CEO of the company said as he walked into Seth's locker room as he dressed for a matchup against some new up and comer who would surely make a name for themselves somewhere down the line.

Seth looked up after finishing tying his boot. “Hey H.”

“Listen,” he began, sitting next to Seth on the locker room bench, oddly enough the very same one he had taken Ambrose all those months ago. He had to suppress the shiver of anger, his junk hadn't been the same since that night in philly. He vaguely remembered waking up with his pants down, Dean and Roman gone, and a throbbing pain in his head and dick. Fucking Dean Ambrose. At least he could live with the fact that they couldn't go to the police any more than he could. But that was neither here nor there. Triple H had something important he wanted to tell him.

“With the sudden resignation of Roman, we need someone to carry the company into the future. We'd like it to be you.”

Seth couldn't hold in the grin, or the spewing thank you’s as they tumbled out of his mouth. This is what he'd been waiting for, what he was meant to do and be. He had done it! He had succeeded! Championships and Hall of fame greatness would be his! All thanks to Dean and Roman, despite the methods used to achieve it. But they were gone and he was going to carry WWE into the future.

Life was good. Nothing could break his high, nothing!

“Get ready for your match and we’ll discuss particulars after.” Triple H finished and patted him on the shoulder before leaving.

He sighed happily. The ends really did justify the means. Machiavelli was definitely onto something there.

The door opened again and one of the PA’s popped his head in and tossed him a small box. “Someone dropped that off for you.”

He drew his eyebrows together, not expecting a package. Turning the small cardboard box in his hands, looking for some sort of return address, he asked the PA if he saw who dropped it off.

“Naw, dude. Sorry.”

With a quick thank you the PA was gone. He made quick work of opening the box and stopped when he saw what was wrapped neatly in black tissue paper. Confused, he pulled a chess piece - the king - with the word ‘checkmate’ scratched into it. He didn't understand. What did this mean?

He didn't have time to think to hard about it. He was called to curtain a few seconds later. His music hit and he sighed contentedly. Things were looking up.

Of course the crowd booed him, he'd come to expect that after he destroyed the Shield. He laughed them off with practiced arrogance and slid easily into the ring. He was first announced, which he always preferred; the crowd reaction always seemed to be more potent then. He bounced on the balls of his feet, ready for this and his future meeting with Triple H.

When the speakers blared again, it wasn't the newcomers music that played. His blood ran cold at the sound of the revving engine that was so iconic of none other than Dean Ambrose's entrance music. He was motionless, eyes wide, while Dean walked down the ramp with a microphone in hand. The crowd had exploded into cheers and screams for him and that struck something in Seth that twisted his insides into a knot. No matter what he did, Ambrose was always there. He should have killed him when he had the chance.

“Did you get my gift, Sethie?” He asked from the ramp, not even paying attention to the roaring crowd still exploding in cheers like Dean was a returning hero.

He wasn't playing this game. Not tonight.

Ambrose grinned which only made Seth's blood boil. “I thought maybe you'd understand the meaning.”

“What the hell are you doing here, Ambrose?” He yelled down at him, but Dean just held his hand up to his ear like he couldn't hear him. So Seth called for a microphone and repeated the question.

Dean chuckled a bit and Seth felt the angry pressure building in his chest. “You know exactly why I'm here, buddy.”

“No, we're not doing this in the ring!” Seth snapped. “You want to air some dirty laundry, we do it backstage.”

Dean gave him a disappointed sort of smile and made to step into the ring. “Nah, I think we should air our dirty laundry, like you said, right here. Don't you think the whole world deserves to know?”

Seth's eyes widened and he swallowed hard, but tried to keep his face steady. He knew everyone in this building now had their eyes on them. He said nothing when Dean stepped right up to him, still grinning like he knew something Seth didn't.

“I guess congratulations are in order, Seth.” He continued after a tense moment when no answer was received. “Face of the company. That must feel really good, right?”

“Dean, stop.” He said without the benefit of the microphone. Dean grinned wider, knowing he'd struck a cord. Seth was starting to understand and he knew it.

But Dean didn't stop. “Oh, hey, where has Kevin been these days? Haven't seen him on RAW or Smackdown. He outlive his usefulness?”

Seth growled just loud enough for them to hear.

“You know what?” Dean continued. “Don't even worry about it, we've got him.”

“We've?”

Again the speaker system blared out music, this time Roman's. Seth's eyes narrowed at who he was walking with when the Big Dog came through the curtain. Kevin Owens.

He looked back at Dean, who hadn't taken his eyes off of him, watching Seth with an unsettling smugness that set his teeth on edge. “You son of a bitch.” He snarled quietly, knowing cameras would pick it up his mouth moving and not giving a shit.

Dean didn't lift the microphone to his mouth this time, but said “Didn't think of this, did you?”

Roman was in the ring with Kevin by now, staring at Seth with all the anger he could muster. Kevin's eyes were downcast as if he had little choice in what was about to happen. Seth knew now, he understood what Dean was doing. “This won't work, Dean.”

Dean lifted the microphone to his mouth and addressed the crowd. “Ladies and gentleman, I have a something I'd like to say that will be hard to hear. My name is Dean Ambrose, and I am a victim of sexual assault. One committed by this two toned mother fucker right here and that large oaf right there. I was attacked in this very locker room, held down, and almost killed by these two. I was hospitalized, as you all know, and then ran from what happened. But I'm not running anymore. Kevin has signed a confession and I have made a formal police report. All that's left is for Seth to admit what he did to me.”

“I did nothing like that!” Seth said into the mic, trying to backpedal deans shocking confession live on air. “This is 100% false!”

Dean smirked, though Seth could see the fire behind his blue eyes. “False, huh? Was it false when you said my whimpers were like music to your ears? Or when you tried to do it again?”

Seth was seeing red, his teeth gnashing and grinding as he tried to keep his anger in check. Dean knew every button Seth had and he pushed them with reckless abandon. He was so angry he didn't think about his next statement before it left his mouth. “I tried to do it again because you -”

He stopped. There was a quiet that fell over the crowd at his accidental admission. He'd admitted it. Fuck, Dean got him to admit it on live television. Security was already entering the ring when Seth realized what he'd done.

Dean was grinning again when they handcuffed him and Kevin. He leaned in so only Seth could hear him.

“Checkmate, fucker.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, that's all she wrote. Hope it wasn't too terrible. Let me know what you all think.


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